


you're my favorite kind of night

by Bluexyellow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester Abuses Dean Winchester, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Sleeping Sam Winchester, Smut, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 06:14:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18632470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluexyellow/pseuds/Bluexyellow
Summary: Dean and Cas share a bed. It's not the first time.





	you're my favorite kind of night

**Author's Note:**

> I'd advise listening to nightcore's cover of "earned it" while reading :)

Castiel and Dean have been sleeping together for a while.

Sleeping as in sleeping.

Nothing else.

.

It was not the first time that Dean and Castiel slept together. Sleeping as in _sleeping_ , in the most innocent meaning of the term. It had just been the product of coincidences (Sam is already sleeping, let's watch a movie, isn't it cold?), but they both had noticed it because they had both wanted it (I like spending time with him, this movie is a dumb pretext, I want him to stay). 

That night, Sam was passed out on the single bed of one of the crappiest motels they ever had the displeasure to spend a night. The covers were itchy, the wallpaper was downright hideous, the door to the bathroom had carefully been taken out if its beams and it was hot at hell – something Dean would know. The air conditioning as loud as it was ineffective, which rendered the atmosphere even more unbearable.

Sam had had a tough day. He had been the one to figure out that the person they thought was a shapeshifter was in fact an innocent bait and that he had left the true shapeshifter with Castiel and a bunch of pre-schoolers. He had called Dean who was preparing the murder of their innocent suspect, and they had rushed to help Castiel. The shapeshifter had not tried to attack yet. Sam had tried to lure him away from the kids, but it had felt that something was odd. Dean and Cas had gotten the children outside to allow Sam to savagely murder the shapeshifter. He had gained a few scratches in the process and the stress of the day, coupled with the heat had knocked him out right after dinner.

Around midnight, Dean went to bed and began reading. He was trying to act normal about it but Castiel had noticed that he usually would not read in public and that he was defensive about it -something he found odd but had not tackled yet.

He was reading a Sherlock Holmes novel. The jacket of the book was worn out and some pages were dog eared. For a while, Castiel just contemplated with fondness the way his friend looked more and more captivated by the story. Then, he went back to what had kept him more or less busy throughout the evening: rummaging through files and notes of previous cases. He was not doing anything in particular because he had been in a mood since they had gotten to the motel, unable to focus, annoyed at everyone who talked to him. 

Dean had though that it was because they had to share a bed, Sam had thought nothing of it because he was already falling asleep and Castiel could not believe that there was no _fucking door_ to the bathroom.

He needed a door. 

He needed  _privacy_.

Because he. _Needed_. A. _wank_.

He needed it even more since he was going to spend a night stuck to _fucking_ _Dean Winchester_.

He _needed_ a _door_ to that _bathroom_.

He felt his excitation pooling in his belly and he felt jittery, annoyed, frustrated. He did not succumb to those urges very often; he had neither the chance nor the desire. He had other things to do. From times to times, though, he would feel a surge of envy, of desire and he would masturbate quickly, most of the time shamefully. 

 

 

He thought of Dean when he did it.

 

 

 

Afterwards, he’d feel guilty, almost dirty.

 

Sometimes, they would cuddle against each other, touching each other’s skin, feeling the other’s fingers. It was their secret -Sam did not know, and even Dean and Castiel wouldn’t talk about it between them. Those were Castiel’s favourite moments: the night seemed to stop for them. Seconds and minutes and hours during which their bodies would brush by accident and then, one of them would move tentatively, pressing a hand against the other, lips suddenly pressed to the other’s neck.

Castiel could feel his heart racing in those moments. He wanted nothing more than to know he mattered to Dean the way Dean mattered to him. His clumsy touches seemed to indicate it. But Castiel wanted more. He wanted to _hear_ it. He wanted Dean to speak about whatever there was between us because it was driving him crazy to be in this situation. Feeling their bodies touch in such intimate ways was wonderful but Castiel needed _to hear it from Dean_.  Sometimes, dozing at the back of the Impala, he would imagine them confessing their love to each other and making love, and keeping on professing their love for each other.

And sometimes, when he was horny and alone in the shower, he’d imagine Dean masturbating him or even fucking Dean, hard, pitiless, making him scream. He’d close his eyes and imagine as hard as he could, touching himself until he came wishing he could scream the name that died on his lips.

It was almost physically painful to open his eyes and come back to the reality of the sad motel bathroom in which he had jerk off to the thought of a man he loved dearly and was on the other side of the door, urging him not to use all of the hot water, or on the other side of the door, asking him if he wanted pizza or burgers and – _Sam, shut up for a sec, I can’t hear him and yes Dean, I’m coming_ (you can’t imagine how true that is). And so he would wash off the traces of sperm from his skin, promising to himself that it was the last time he’d do that only to get back at his fantasies with even more strength the next time -this time, Dean was blowing him and then fingering him and then I love you, I love you.

But he always had to open his eyes in the end.

 

Open his eyes, turn off the shower, go back to normal.

 

.

Dean eventually fell asleep around 1:30, his book still in his hands and Cas took all the time in the world to go to bed.

.

Dean woke up all at once, unable at first to pinpoint what had awaken him. Then Cas moaned, hips pressing against the mattress and Dean felt his face flush and his stomach twist because _Cas was having a wet dream._

 _That_ was what had woken him up.

Dean was sure feeling very awake, heat pooled in his stomach – and lower and-

He could not let Cas sleep. He’d feel like he’d abuse him if he watched him get off in his sleep.

\- _Cas,_ he whispered softly, tentatively grabbing his shoulder.

Cas moaned again hips, still moving and whispered.

\- Yes, _Dean_.

He did not seem to be answering the real Dean’s calls, the Dean whose heartbeat had suddenly increased because he could not bring himself to believe that Castiel was having a wet dream about _him_.

\- _Cas_ , he said again, louder this time.

Through the light of the neon that filtered through the broken blinds, Dean saw Castiel open his eyes (he always had to, in the end). He also witnessed his expression going from barely awaken and horny to confused and horrified.

\- Dean-

\- You were… having a nightmare, Dean provided. So I woke you up.

But Cas did not buy any of it.

\- I am so sorry, Dean. Please, forgive me, I’m so sorry,  I just –

Castiel’s voice was wobbly, and he had sat down, trying to get away from Dean. For once, he did not even dare to look at Dean.

There was something, maybe in the vulnerability that Castiel displayed at that moment, or in the promiscuity of the bed, or maybe something else entirely that pushed Dean to decide what he wanted to do in the fraction of a second. He moved closer to Cas, put a hand on his thigh and his heart was racing like crazy and he was not entirely sure of what he was doing – hell, he had no idea at all.

\- Don’t be sorry. I’m gonna help you with that all right?

\- What?

_No. Shut up. Please. Let met touch you._

\- Do you want me to help you, Cas? Dean asked, deliberately running his fingers from Cas’ thigh to his hips.

Castiel’s body was warm against his cool hand, and the contact was electrifying. The atmosphere between them crackled with  potential and now it was not his fingers that he put on Cas’ skin but his hand, his palm and he shuffled closer to the angel and his body was also very warm and Cas’ breath was erratic and Dean _liked it_.

-  _Yes_. Yes Dean. _Please_.

His voice was nothing but a low rumble.

Dean pressed against him and fumbled under the covers until he found what he was looking for.

He had never jerked someone else off, but how different from masturbating could it be?

He took Cas’ cock in hand and began moving slowly. He could feel Cas arching against him, trying to muffle his moans of pleasure.

Dean felt like he was going crazy.

\- What were you dreaming about, Cas?

Cas breathed faster.

\- That’s fine, angel. You don’t have to tell me. Just think about what it is that made you want it _so bad._

He could feel all the emotions he had tried to mute for years swelling in his heart, taking so much room, breaking his barriers. He smelt Cas, and he smelt good. He smelled like home. Like an ocean but he was also warm and reassuring like a fucking _bakery_.

Dean hated himself for loving this.

The revelation struck him with every movement of the wrist: _he. hated. himself._

It was not _right_ to like another man like that.

_Bullshit, bullshit._

He pushed back the tears that threatened to come.

And then, Cas pushed him back. _Castiel was pushing him away._  

\- Dean, stop, please. You don’t look fine.

He must have called his name before but he had not heard him. Castiel grabbed his wrist to prevent him from continuing.

Dean’s eyes were wide open, but he could not see. _Disgusting_.

\- Dean, let’s go outside, please.

 

Dean obeyed. He put an old plain t-shirt which was not even his and grey sweatpants. Castiel was waiting next to the bed, into his black hoodie and dumb blue pajama bottom. They sneaked outside as silently as possible.

The air smelled of melting tar and hot car wheels, but the air was cool. Without speaking, they walked away from the motel and its neon halo and climbed up on a little hill of dry grass that was behind the parking lot. They sat down behind bushes. The cars on the highway far away looked like a big luminous caterpillar. Everything looked very quiet and Dean marveled at the simplicity of the moment, the stars in the sky and Castiel beside him. His moment of weakness was gone and he felt just felt a bit tired.

They looked at the landscape for a while

Cas spoke first. 

\- I am sorry I put you in this uncomfortable situation. I did not want to pressurize you into sexual intercourse. I feel very bad about it, Dean, I hope you can forgive me.

They did not look at each other. The atmosphere between them had changed so much since that moment when everything had felt so perfect and hot and careless… And now, it felt weird talking about Dean masturbating Castiel.

Dean cleared his throat.

\- It’s fine, Cas, he managed to say. You did not force me.

\- Are you sure? Because you don’t look fine.

Everything seemed so careless under the stars.

\- I enjoyed it. Hell. I _wanted_

Cas waited a little before asking.

\- Then do you want to talk about what went wrong?

Dean let the silence grow between them. This kind of discussion was not his favourite. Cas had resigned himself to the fact that Dean was not going to say more when he resumed speaking:

\- I'm afraid to be with men, he said, as quickly as possible.

His voice was wobbly, and he hated himself a little bit more. He touched another guy’s dick _once_ and now he was crying and talking about his feelings.

Cas thought that he was not really a man technically speaking, but he understood that this was beside the point and let Dean continue, his voice firmer.

\- Amongst humans… It’s.. Not _good_ for two men to be together. I mean, now it’s _OK_ , now but before... And especially within _our_ world …

Cas was always quick to understand when Dean was trying to hide something.

\- Did someone hurt you, Dean?

Neck stiff, Dean nodded.

It felt weird to admit it.

It felt weird admitting he had been abused because of who he was, because of his sexuality.

It sounded dumb and weak.

\- But it doesn’t matter anymore. It was long ago. I changed and …

He did not even know what he wanted to say. He voice was uncertain, and he cried. The tears caught him by surprise. Castiel held him close, kissed him on the back of his neck, in his hair.

Of course, Castiel would do that.

Dean wanted it so bad: being held, being told that everything was going to be fine.

Dean wanted Cas to do all of this.

The stars shone bright above them.

\- I know that deep down you know it, Dean, but I’ll say it anyway. You can love who you want. You can love me.

Castiel took a deep breath before continuing: 

\- I love you. I’ll always be there for you. No one will hurt you anymore, ever. I won’t allow it.

Dean cried louder, holding onto his angel.

\- Don’t leave me, Cas. Don’t ever leave me.

\- It’s okay, Dean. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

The hunter eventually calmed down. Castiel was rubbing his back, kissing him through his tears.

\- Sorry for that, he said, wiping the tears of his face

\- Don’t apologize, please. I want to be here for you, I need you to be honest with me.

 

Once Dean had calmed down and a sort of nice familiarity had settled between them, they talked, and the stars looked over them.

 

 

They talked, laughed, and Dean looked at Castiel and he was so pretty and vulnerable, and fierce, and nice, and he was his whole universe and so he kissed him, shyly at first, and then they looked at each other and kissed again. It was a shared movement; they reached for each other under the stars and Dean climbed on Castiel and the stars fell and rose in the sky but nothing felt as endless as the moment they were sharing and the kisses, now lying on the burnt grass behind a parking lot and they keep pressing their lips together, and their whole bodies and Dean felt fine because and angel told him he could love who he wanted and he wanted to love him.

\- Let me finish what I started, Dean asked, fiddling with the elastic of Cas’ pants. Let me.

Cas let him.

Dean masturbated him, stroking his hard dick, kissing him, leaving hickeys on his neck, marveling at the sight of Castiel being touched under the stars. Castiel smelled of sweat and cheap deodorant and the ocean, an ocean of possibility and he positively smelt like sin and _hell_ , did Dean love that. He was aroused, he felt his erection but he did not want to think about it, not yet.

\- Come on Cassy, he mumbled, come for me.

It was as if he was praying and Castiel was chanting his name - _Dean, Dean, Dean_ \- and he came hard, closing his eyes under the stars.

Dean realized he was out of breath and covered in sweat and still hard.

He rubbed the cum that covered his hand in the frail grass while Castiel, eyes still closed, was slowly recovering.

Eventually, he opened his eyes and looked at Dean, and he smiled.

\- You called me “Cassy”, he said after a moment.

Dean blushed.

\- Heat of the moment, he mumbled. I won’t do it again if it bothers you.

\- No, I liked it. I like when you give me nicknames. I feel like I … belong to you.

The hesitation in Cas’ voice made Dean look up.

\- Belong to me, he repeated. _Kinky_.

He said that because he did not know what else to say but he sure knew how he felt. He felt dizzy with affection and happiness.

Cas smiled.

\- If you say so. _Kinky_.

\- C’mon.

They kissed again, Castiel sitting between Dean’s legs and being held in his arms.

\- Dean, do you want me to masturbate you?

\- Oh, um, no buddy, thank you. I’m fine.

 _\- Buddy_?

Cas turned around to face Dean and Dean noticed how rigid he had gone, how darker the blue in his eyes seemed to be.

\- I don’t feel fully … comfortable with _that_ yet, Cas.

He saw the sadness on his friend’s face and guilt attacked him like a hellhound.

\- I’ll work on it, I promise, he added. It’s just… It’s not easy on me.

\- Of course, Dean. Don’t worry about it, okay? Take your time.

There were times when Castiel really was a shitty liar. It wasn't that he did not understand Dean's struggle, he could only imagine how hard it must be for him but once again, he was keeping him away. 

They looked around for a while, still pressed against each other but the moment was gone. The air was cooling and the stars were fading out.

\- Can you just –

Castiel fumbled with his words for a moment. Dean had rarely seen him at loss for words. Cas was flushed, probably from his orgasm but also from shyness and this was an incredible sight for Dean.

\- Don’t worry about it, he finally mumbled, and Dean did not ask more.

They went back to the motel soon after. It was early morning. The stars had gone and the sky was a wistful shade of blue.

They went back to their bed as silently as they had sneaked out. On the way to the bed, Cas tripped over Dean's used copy of the Sherlock Holmes novel. He picked it up, thinking about when he had seen it, hours earlier, as Dean was reading, and he had not dreamt yet nor had his dream become real . He put the book on his nightstand. 

In the morning, Cas took more time than usual before getting up. He laid there in the bed with his eyes closed during long minutes. They had a lead in Nebraska, they had to be on the road in fifteen minutes, stop for coffee and get the hell out _so it would be good if you could move your gear, Cas and why not start by opening your eyes,_ buddy _?_

Cas opened his eyes.

He always had to in the end.

Sam was already checking them out of the motel.

Dean was waiting for him.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please, comment, it would make my day :)


End file.
